Reviews Coming Soon

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

UK Tech-Fest is always an event to look forward to with its interesting
variety of international bands, a great atmosphere and organisers who
think of everything, including a fine selection of real ales.
AveNoctum’s John Skibeat (JS) and Andrew Doherty (AD) were there on the
Saturday of this four day event to drink in and review the experience.

So what did he learn? Well, it imbued him with a new found appreciation
of the drummer’s art. From the maniacally complex blur of sticks and
feet on skin to the vast swathes of silence, deftness of touch and light
glances of cymbal. The variety of percussion required when creating
music devoid of the human voice was vast. And whilst there appeared to
be a decreasing use of bass guitar there was conversely the increasing
use of ambient recordings in this art form. It was also noticeable just
how often certain instruments have risen to the fore in technical music
over the years – see reviews for examples.

So… back to the present tense and the first band on the bill for the
day. Altostratus, a quartet named after a high cloud formation, play a
groovy, light, yet complex, form of technical rock with a soft, elegiac
flow. Their bassist looms large in everything they do, setting a strong
rhythm, striding wildly from step to step across the stage. The twin
guitarists create some beautiful finger shapes, and aren’t afraid of
palm-muting or riffing. They switch guitars regularly and at one point a
small black box Strandberg guitar, no bigger than a banjo, is produced.
Ultimately, they do thrash out one too many bar chords for my liking
and just don’t work over their cute riffs for long enough to fully
immerse yourself in their songs. Having said that, there are some
wonderful flurries of colour to be found in key track “Hidden In A
Cloud”. (JS)

Crushing bass lines, a growly vocalist, who looked as if he wanted to
cause harm, and all-round heaviness were the meat and veg from
Harbinger. Actually, not so much veg. The vocalist made the common
mistake of mumbling song titles but I gathered beforehand from the guy
on the merch stand that most of this set came from the recently released
EP “Human Dust”. I loved the hard-hitting riffs, the heavy bass line
and the technical hardcore energy. One vocalist briefly became two –
that’s one way of getting over the noise. This was aggressive layered
technical metal without ever being too clever about it. Structures held
together well even in the onslaught of such brutal chaos. Harbinger had
great presence too. The vocalist had grace and humour. Heads banged,
faces twisted and the bassist in the multi-coloured shirt, which made me
think that a blackcurrant-consuming bird had deposited its stuff,
joyously lived and breathed every moment. The band rose to the occasion.
This was everything you would hope for from a live performance. (AD)

A thin and pale-looking man in a green hooded wind cheater growled and
screamed like a cat, as the instrumentalists around him pumped out
irregular, djenty dirt. It stopped. “We are Nycosia”, he announced
politely in a refined accent. Thanks. Now back to screams and dissonance
of a highly disturbing and entertaining nature. Green Man’s face turned
redder as he rapped venom into his mic for our benefit. Oodles and
oodles of energy and aggression poured out of every crevice. Chunk –
clunk – chunk, they’re angry. Everyone’s angry but happy. Sampled
distorted crawliness led to a further mentally deranged breakneck fury
fest, breaking down somewhere along the line into mind-altering doom.
Oompah-oompah. The experimentation knew no bounds. It was brutal. It
turned punishingly dark out there. Somehow we finished up in a cosmic
void. This was fine fare for 2 o’clock on a Saturday afternoon.
Immaculately presented, this was warped music for creative minds. Well
done. Does Nycosia come on prescription? Luckily Green Man didn’t burst a
blood vessel. The man needs a nice cup of tea after all that. (AD)

With more Strandberg’s on display for Wisconsin duo (a trio for the
tour) The Fine Constant, it certainly becomes apparent that it is this
year’s instrument de rigeur. Adored by axe technicians for its lightness
and adaptability, the guitarists here show just how adaptable they can
be. Lead guitarist, Sarah Longfield, drives the twinkling top-end
whereas the tour backing guitarist adds bassier textures with bar chords
and riffs. Sarah’s finger shapes, speed and lightness of touch is
astonishing and mesmeric in equal measure. She rarely visits the base of
the guitar neck to strum, employing the finger-tapping method to great
effect. Their music brings a strong arpeggio game, but sadly the
performance and finished product feel vacant, like it’s missing
something. Perhaps it’s the size of the stage, the loss of momentum
between songs or the lack of engagement with the crowd, but for some
reason the absence of vocal seems particular noticeable. (JS)

With less ambiguous arpeggios and a groovier soul, The Parallax Method,
are three guys who obviously love what they do. Throughout the set,
they’re exchanging smiles, teasing each other with new tricks and
change-ups. Ben Edis on bass spends the whole set bobbing his head in
time with his own rhythm, rocking gently forwards and backwards, and
sandal-wearing guitarist Danny Beardsley isn’t far behind him. The
drummer plays intense, rapid rhythms and displays huge technical skills.
This band know their way around their instruments but they still fall
short on variety. There is much similarity between the songs but what is
there is solid. Pulling out of the groove to develop the layers would
help lift what good foundations they have laid. (JS)

My immediate impression of seeing Exist Immortal on stage was that they
are a well-drilled band. Co-ordinated head-banging, movement and horns
gave a slick appearance. Musically, deep waves flowed through a heavily
progressive sound. The singer mixed growls and clean vocals very well.
Normally I pick up bands for having insufficient presence, but at the
start I felt there was too much. All the gesturing and posturing were
those of self-appointed, posing rock gods. The music itself had power
and energy. There was plenty of energy in fact and moreover plenty of
hair on stage to swing. And it flowed – the songs were strong, the riffs
were solid and dark, and the clean vocals added impact to this melodic
heaviness. The singer looked like Damian Wilson and when he spoke
sounded like him. The vocal delivery was more akin to Scar Symmetry.
Inciting the crowd to chant “we are non believers” was a bit daft, I
thought, and the bassist became unhooked in his enthusiasm, but the
stage performance settled down after initially being distracting. The
crowd bounced, even the guy with the bandaged foot. I’d quite like to
listen to the recorded version of these songs without the distraction of
seeing these guys prancing about and without the wall of sound. I
suspect they would be rather good. Well, on a hunch I bought Exist
Immortal’s album “Breathe” (2016) so I guess I’ll find that out soon.
(AD)

Maxi Curnow, producer, composer, fire-fighter and Tech-Fest favourite,
always goes down well with the crowd and here it is no surprise to see
just how well his unique brand of jazzy, progressive, groove-laden tech
metal is received – he takes the adoration with a series of appreciative
nods, thank yous and humble blushes. Further comment would be somewhat
unfair seeing as, due to rumbling bellies, neither our intrepid
reviewers got to witness his full set. (JS)

Dutch quartet, Exivious, featuring current and ex-members of
Dodecahedron and Cynic, greeted us with the news that they were (like a
couple of others) on their farewell tour. They certainly gave us a big
echoing sound to absorb. Imagine yourself being in the belly of a whale,
hearing the groaning of the ocean beyond its ribcage. Such was the
impact of combining a multitude of effects pedals with an impressive and
aggressive drummer. Some songs breathed fire, some froze in our veins.
They certainly maintained a steely resolve throughout, their respective
members smiling with each twist of the story conjured. Indeed, our lead
guitarist seemed lost in his own little world; eyes covered by shades,
ears covered by headphones, rocking and rolling his way to oblivion.
With so little crowd interaction, the “all-male futuristic instrumental
hit machine” left us a little bemused but certainly with something to
mull over. (JS)

“Platfarm faave” was the sole contribution to humanity that I ever heard
from the man on the gate at Hull Paragon station. It didn’t matter
where you were going. It was always platfarm faave. The man was a
legend. Not yet legends but also from Hull are The Colour Line. They
certainly took the dull out of Hull. The band looked excited. Soon they
were up and at us. Mayhem followed. The vocalist, guitarist and bassist
ran around and jumped on things amid punk hardcore energy and noise.
They wouldn’t stand still for Johnski’s photo, the buggers. The vocalist
was in the moshpit and we were on the first song. I found myself
confronted by the burly bassist. No time for chit-chat. It was carnage
but let’s not forget they can play. Here was technical hardcore with
extra ferocity but as a guaranteed bonus the rhythms were infectious and
providing fuel. “I am extremely unfit”, announced the vocalist who set
about disproving the point. Smash-bang-wallop: the noise was total,
there was much kicking and screaming and hammering, and the songs were
great. The vocalist reflected: “In our wildest dreams did we not imagine
that so many people …. would be leaving the room at once”. The tension
built up as “R.E.D” started with a tribal technical rhythm. The angry
joy was abundant. Did I hear a little jazz insertion? Where to look? The
singer was on the amp and in the crowd again. The guitarist jumped on
the security guy’s shoulders. Leads got tied up. The guitarist stood on
the drum kit. Heavy, heavy, thunder and chaos. The set was cut off at
4.30 but with a bit of persuasion all round, The Colour Line were back
to play “Colonel Sanders Flying Machine” to delight us with more
technical anarchy. And inevitably, orchestrated by the vocalist, it
finished up with a mass pile-up of bodies in the middle of the floor.
The guitarist confirmed to me later that the band is breaking up and
they have just one more gig to play in their home city. That’ll be a
riot. Newark 0, Hull 4. (AD)

It’s hard to believe that The Algorithm are a duo, albeit one with a
neat symbiotic relationship, considering the level of noise that emerges
from their respective tools. Whereas Jean Ferry batters various drums
and cymbals with sticks, Rémi Gallego sends loop after loop skittering
into the ether before backing it up all up with a chaotic set of tones
and rhythmic patterns powered by synth and guitar. The effect is to
place their music somewhere between dance and metal. It’s a destructive
sound, bordering on drum and bass, prog and at times breakbeat.
Occasionally, you’ll seriously wonder which instrument is playing
percussion. Was that backbeat from the synth, the double-kick, or the
guitar? The crowd are lapping it up and between songs shout “Oui! Oui!”,
baying for the Gallic master-class to play on. With the drum-kit up
near the front of the stage, it’s a pretty destructive sound. The force
of the double-kick and the way it mashes with the guitar chugs (with the
whole meshing to form what sounds like dog barks) bully your chest and
lift you off your feet. They hammer through crowd favourites like “Brute
Force” and “Deadlock” before letting their collective imaginations fly
for “Floating Point” and “Machine”. Then, just for shits and giggles
they attempt to scramble your psyche by tripping the light fantastic
with “Access Granted” and that subversive section of ragga/dubstep. The
circle pit slows from a mad-dash to a slow-motion jive and the party
and, indeed, the day ramps up a level. (JS)

Compared to previous acts, the Gigantic stage hall was fairly empty,
maybe on account of the fact that people wanted their dinner. Around 50
spectators gathered to watch Red Seas Fire. This band hadn’t set the
world ablaze on the last occasion I saw them. Here again there was
plenty of honest energy but what I heard seemed uncoordinated. The angry
tech rhythm wasn’t especially angry. The clean vocals weren’t strong
and were a bit whiny. The strength lay in the drums department. Here and
there Red Seas Fire came out of their shell with all guns blazing and
showed they were capable of rip-roaring, bouncing metal. Judging by the
number of members of other bands in the audience, maybe Red Seas Fire
could be seen as a band’s band. (AD)

My expectations were high for Uneven Structure. Other than segments, I
hadn’t heard their latest album “Partition” (2017) before today, but
their previous works and live performances told me I was going to
witness something mesmerising, dark and epic. Normally silky smooth and
lofty in spite or even because of the weight from the four
instrumentalists, I found this set hard work as it never seemed to get
going. Matthieu’s vocals haunt and float when he’s not growling, but
here it was difficult for him to generate atmosphere above the wall of
djenty noise. “Partition” evidently doesn’t engender fog. It does
require immense sounds. Another guitarist appeared. The young drummer
looked like was having the time of his life. The other instrumentalists
exuded a mixture of gravitas and pleasure. This was too lyric-heavy.
More atmosphere please. There was atmosphere and Uneven Structure built
it up as is their wont, but this was no pressure cooker with ever
increasing tension. “Partition” would seem to be a series of distinct
experiences. I get that Uneven Structure would want to expand their
sound, but it was as if Matthieu were making his lengthy vocal appeal
through thick clouds. At one point the wall of sound accompanied a slow,
lingering and emotional ballad. I’d not heard a djent ballad before.
The power can be overwhelming. The complexity is haunting. It’s about
tones of darkness. There’s little light here. It was impressive in
flashes, but the sound mix and the lack of obvious logic in the musical
story-telling wasn’t making this easy. Matthieu almost fell off the drum
platform as he initiated a series of pungent explosions. This could be
very heavy. The fog then appeared. The sad looking guitarist played a
melancholic tune. The other two guitarists enigmatically faced the back
of the stage as Matthieu sang and the drummer injected sophistication.
The song built up and everyone was in the game again. The wall of sound
and growls were as ever immense. The guitarist in front of me fell to
the floor in exhaustion or emotion, not sure which. Fiery death metal
followed. Matthieu incited the crowd. The crowd responded. The band
lined up and subjected us to a wall of djent and enormity. Matthieu
roared and floated dreamily above the deathly heaven. This was Uneven
Structure of old – the start of Februus (2011) in fact. Finally, I felt
uplifted. And it built up to a crescendo of power, ferocity and
intensity. It was evident that the band felt it too. It was a
magnificent ending but to this point I struggled with this set. The
depth and complexity are unquestioned. Maybe if I’d known what
“Partition” is about, it might have helped, but I felt that there was a
lack of continuity coming from these heavy progressive tableaux.
Matthieu struggled to rise above the intensity of sounds, and his
message was lost for me. Yet in spite of my reservations and to some
extent disappointment, this was still an impressive experience. (AD)

As I stood and watched the lads from Andorran death metal outfit Persefone
warm up, it became apparent that something wasn’t quite right. Little
clue did I have that I and the eventual audience were to witness
something truly special. Just before they started playing in earnest,
frontman Mark Martins Pia made a solemn announcement to the audience
that their band-mate Miguel had been hospitalised before the show.
However, they had agreed not to let the fans down and plough on despite
no longer having a keyboard player, or backing vocalist, and as they had
discovered, no compatible samples or effects (somewhat key to a
complete performance). It later transpired, that they were also about to
experience the full gamut of technical issues from loose ear monitors
to PA system failure. However, true to their word, through shrugged
shoulders, bit lips, hung heads and apologetic grimaces they “had fun”
with it and put on an absolute stonker of a show. Having been accused
previously of weak performances and crowd interaction, they tore into
their set and constantly offered feedback, praising the crowd who
reacted with nothing but joyous abandon and rapturous applause. Pia
basically gave us a lesson in how important the bond between band and
audience can be. He leapt from front to back of the stage; prowled from
left to right. He climbed risers, speaker stacks, crowd-surfed and
balanced precariously on the barriers with multiple arms supporting him.
He even conducted the circle pit from inside it! The man was a tour de
force. Yes, there were whole sections missing but where possible Pia
sung (a surprise to even him) the clean backing vocals whilst the crowd
hummed the missing samples. At one point this heroic frontman even ran
to the front of the crowd to ram his mic under the lips of an
intro-whistling crowd member for the masterful “Living Waves”. They
improvised with a jam session to cram in “Spiritual Migration” and they
climaxed with the epic “Mind As Universe”. When they laid their
instruments down they found a multitude of new fans wanting to meet them
to wish them and their missing brother well. This was a total
master-class in going above and beyond expectations; of how to win
friends and influence people and… to have a blast doing it. (JS)

Having misread the band’s logo beforehand, Obscura was a lucky dip
choice for me as I knew nothing about them. That isn’t necessarily a bad
thing. At least I was coming into it without pre-conceived ideas. A
couple of knowledgeable people did tell me earlier in the day that
Obscura are German and play technical death metal, which given this
event isn’t so surprising. A potential distraction was the fact that I
was bringing myself down after the improvised brilliance of Persefone.
What I heard initially from Obscura was very technical, very clinical
and very heavy. A sampled symphony did nothing to dispel a cacophonous
high octane death metal song. This made way for another growly song
marked by more heavily technical and purposeful progression. It moved
along like an industrial machine. Progress continued to be mechanical,
military even. I gathered that Obscura were from Munich and released
albums called “Cosmogenesis” and “Akróasis” but for me it made little
difference. Each song, wherever it came from, seemed to be borne of an
apparent contractual obligation comprising the establishment of an
unwavering technical pattern, growls and a clunking progression.
Movements were made to order. The spokesman didn’t help by berating the
audience for not being interested in the explanation of a song’s timing.
He invited the audience to join in – to the growly parts? Band members
smiled but there was no fun. There was no spirit or soul. “Sermon of the
Seven Suns” was fast and hard but with the same technical riff it still
managed to be colourless. To the band’s credit, they played well and
tightly, and the grooves were good, but in spite of the occasional epic
moment, this was all built on a classic model and came out flat and
stingy for me. So whilst Obscura’s set wasn’t actually bad, there was
nothing memorable. Once they were in a pattern, they found themselves
stuck in it and it was all very pedestrian. To counter my own negativity
Obscura have released four albums, and judging by the healthy crowd at
the merch stand and a complimentary comment by a fellow-festival goer,
it’s clear that Obscura have something to offer. I just never found out
what it was. (AD)

Predictably, considering their decision to call time after 16 years,
melodic technical groove merchants Textures announced early on that this
was to be their last TechFest. With the crowd immediately desperate to
fully engage with their last chance to catch their heroes, frontman
Daniel De Jongh picked the masses up in his meaty palm and carried them
on a journey through their colossal back catalogue from “Drive”,
“Regenesis” and “Storm Warning” to “Stream of Consciousness” and
“Laments of Icarus”. The crowd-surfing was immediate; the circle-pit and
moshing ensued. The band responded with shit-eating grins, breakdown
after breakdown, juddering tech scrambles and a cacophony of battered
drum-skins. The atmospheric backwash drifted over proceedings for “New
Horizons” and the lightshow ramped up a level with sweeping spots and
blazing strobes. The catcalls and whistles emanating from the crowd
reached fever pitch between tracks and regular chants of “AY! AY! AY!”
drowned out De Jongh’s attempts at banter. No matter, he simply waited
then tore them a new arsehole with his barking vocal and skittish
whoops. His range is unequalled; his rich quality of tone is to be
marvelled at. Those with hair wind-milled, those with fists raised them.
Then following the monstrous “Singularity”, the band broke for an
unnecessarily long interlude of melodic synth. Blue lights from the
stage, lighters from the crowd, but the momentum was lost, the wait
monotonous. When they returned De Jongh actually felt the need to say
“we’re back”. They did manage to pull it all back eventually but only by
demanding a hangar-wide wall of death. The division between the fans
and the onlookers immediately became apparent but those more up for the
craic, soon pulled the strings of a circle pit together as the rhythm
switched to a gallop. The band began pulling stunts like co-ordinated
backward walks across the stage, the bassist gave up playing and allowed
De Jongh to bang his mic on the strings to set the rhythm, the
stage-jockeying began and the show began to descend into farce. Happily,
the energetic nature of their songs and their performance pulled them
through the roughest of patches and we all retired with buzzing ears and
rosy cheeks. (JS)

The final word: as hoped for, this was a day of great bands, but what
was particularly striking was the friendliness and natural camaraderie
amongst everyone present. Even the security staff had smiles on their
faces while doing their job efficiently. UK Tech-Fest world is one where
people talk to strangers happily, make space for others and share their
bottle of water. Band members are around to chat and everyone’s happy.
World leaders please note.Review: John Skibeat / Andrew Doherty
Photos: John Skibeat

Thursday, June 8, 2017

With vast swathes of blustering labyrinthine riffing and warm, throaty vocals, this smacks of New Wave of American Heavy Metal yet brings it back home with a rich, thrashed-up thread running through its core.

From the off, “Gospel Untold” offers up a rich amalgamation of groove, death, power and thrash. The scattergun riffing, winding leads, focussed roars and battering drums scramble to get at you as if from every angle. Following close behind, the title-track pulls back a little from the storming pace but is no less impacting. Think Sylosis’ on top-form and you’ll get an idea of the crush that these guys’ can produce when they hit top gear. Liam Turland’s complex and virulent drum insanity deserves a special mention as he produces panicky rolls that come at you in waves, a crisp snare, punchy double-kick and supremely tight drops and change-ups. A ‘core-loving perfectionist might suggest that the breakdowns need to smack down harder and more often, but we’re splitting hairs here..

Tracks like “Victim” and “What You’ve Done” have the instant gratification that marks out bands like Lamb of God and All Shall Perish but also mimic the longer game and offered by the tech-minded – think Black Crown Initiate or Trigger The Bloodshed. The lyrics are intense and filthy enough to fire up a crowd – “I will not rest while you’re still alive / Don’t say a fucking word” (“Victim”) even comes complete with dropout and Randy Blythe-esque “whooooop”. Or perhaps you prefer the last line from “Sentiment”… “For safe keeping I will cut out your heart / I am living all my dreams”. That’s sick, man.

Over 36 rancid minutes, this Northampton quintet produce gem after gem, alternating their attack with either a co-ordinated bass and drum power move, or by firing up their range of winding, interwoven melodics. The track “From Eden To Exile”, stripped of complexity and not nearly as playful, is about the only thing that feels a little laboured. The rest is solid gold and, having seen them live, I can assure they bring just as much force and fire to the stage too. If you dig music that puts up a damned good fight, you’ve come to the right place.

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Hailing from Arvada, Colorado, a city built on the original site where the first nugget of Rockies gold was discovered in 1850, doom-dwellers Ketch have discovered something far darker lurking in their waters.

Anyone dipping their sluice pan in this river will find a mixture of death, sludge and, as their album-title so eloquently describes, plenty of dread. This first long-player from them comes with their self-titled EP tacked on the end so this release certainly isn’t short on playtime.

They open up with a lilting bassline that curls itself around your senses like smoke, but soon bursts into flame and meaty riffery. With the screeching vocal completing the set, those listening will be sent whirling like dervishes, banging heads, punching fists. “Fertile Rites By Sacrifice” is a fine introduction – simple, aggressive and weighty.

From here things start getting a little fraught as the disturbing madness that lurks within their song-writing starts tearing the structures apart. Chaotic rhythms, furred-up electrics, anomalous chords and bristling vocal that tears maniacally at the flesh. Rumbling butchery that eventually catches the groove before suddenly disappearing from view.

“En Nomine Eius” [translation: “In The Name Of Jesus Christ”] echoes elegiacally, warbling sweetly before tearing your face clean off with a single swipe. The double-kicking fury is bone-shattering. Like a mix of Iron Monkey and Slabdragger, with hints of Monolord and Weedeater, this is heaviosity in overdrive; low-lidded and psychotic. Pitching straight into “Monsters Of The World”, an atonal death growling bastard from the very depths of Hell itself. You know something’s afoot when your cat fixes you with narrowed eyes and pins its ears back yet refuses to move from the room.

One sore point – “Estranged”, with its tuneless piano collapse and echoing whispers intoning scripture it’s clearly designed to bring to mind the horrors that lurk in the mind, but by the second play simply starts drives you nuts. “ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES JACK A DULL BOY…”

Happily, all’s well that ends well as they resort to type. Oh, and their 5-track EP that follows has plenty to offer the doom fiends amongst you. Definitely, check out “Counting Sunsets” – it’s a cold-blooded killer of a track.

Ketch don’t do things by halves. This is hearty, brutal fare with exotic flourishes that hint at something beyond your usual experience. Slap on your death mask, bring your weed and come get some.

Grabbing the chance to wade into Royal Thunder’s world is always a bit of a pleasure. The Atlantan quartet are right up my alley often warping the softer edges of classic rock and grunge with deft psych touches to create a warm, unctuous sound. New album, Wick, has promised to offer something a little different though so we’ll see in which direction they’ve veered.

It’s a slow, melancholic start with Mlny Parsonz’ strong, part-growled vocal outpourings, saving the weak MOR melodies, rhythmic plodding and cloying, overwrought threads from anonymity. Happily, as the tempo picks up, to coincide with the rollicking force of “The Sinking Chair”, the disparate structures begin to mesh together and throb beautifully. Her vocal even kicks into growl mode and the twisted overdrive in Josh Weaver’s guitar really ram home the band’s intent and passion. It’s a right old rocker all wrapped up in bookends of feedback.

There’s elements of stoner plod, dirty pop and blues boogie in here, but it’s the rich vein of frazzled country that shines through strongest of all. The balletic “Plans” is pure Black Crowes, the over-dramatics and soporific nature of “Push” and “The Well” are tinged with Creedence and Fleetwood Mac, whilst the lilting kick and rattle of “Anchor” is delivered with a sneer, a swagger and a truckful of capricious intensity that only comes from extended Country & Western immersion – I bet they recorded it wearing ten gallon hats.

Ultimately it’s the weaker numbers, such as the loose-limbed “We Slipped” and the wheedling, naval-gazing title-track that leave this coming up short of their best material. Despite the clipped song structures, multi-instrumentalism and new clean lines they are sporting this, by no means, is an album that has strayed too far from the nest but it does come fired up by this strong sense of purpose. It’s interesting to notice that Parsonz found making the album a bit of a struggle. “It was a fight, but to hear it now, to see it finished, is so gratifying. I’m looking at it, going we’re done, it’s over, be free.” For me, the overwhelming sense from reading that quote is one of relief, rather than achievement. Let’s hope that the pieces fall into place a little easier next time.

What Austrian J.J. (the artist formerly known as V. Wahntraum) does is a mouthful, but what the one-man Austrian band calls himself is not. He dabbles in ambient-oriented, post-atmospheric black metal but he simply calls his project KARG.

Weltenasche is his fifth full-length studio album and is the first to be completely performed in the dialect J.J. grew up with and which is spoken around the mountains of his hometown. Being gloomy and emotional, you’ll pick up subtle hints of Alcest and Lantlôs in here.

The rhythm bucks and shakes as the drum patterns shift constantly making it tough to grab a firm grip on proceedings. The juxtaposition of rough and smooth creates an antagonistic power play but the overall sense of drama is unerring. Melancholia envelops all – easy-listening this is not.

By the end of third track, “Le Couloir De Ombres”, we are already well over 30 minutes into this beast with the promise of at least another 45 minutes to go and already the abrupt key changes and panicky, affected nature of the song-writing is causing heart-palpitations. Grinding on as I must I find the shackles tightening and crave freedom. It becomes beyond oppressive, I start to writhe, burn, itch and fester. Not due to the extreme nature of the music, but the incessant, imposing structures that obliterate one another. It makes no sense.

It’s a tough one – these could all be special places to the right ear, but to mine the levels of perseverance required to fully engage the bronco requires me to strip my psyche to the bone. Each vast piece takes us careering into uncharted territory. Through NWOBHM, 80s kitsch, recordings of blazing rows and into incendiary spots of classical music.

Ultimately it is the dull, recycling chord structures that kill it. This is J.J.’s own all-consuming psychosis, not ours. It’s just too easy an album to walk away from. Without rules, there is only chaos and this is what miserably deliberate, self-absorbed chaos sounds like.